


A good day

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mission Fic, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Doomfist/Zenyatta*“I had expected to find some… opposition,” Zenyatta murmured, looking up. “But to find Akande Ogundimu here in person…”Tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in a pristine, white suit, Akande Ogundimu looked down and smirked.





	A good day

**Author's Note:**

> if i write three different times 'they meet and they fuck' for the same pairing is it a kink? because i guess im setting a trend here. this time tho with lots more banter than usual!

**A good day**

 

Until then, the party had been normal –almost boring, in fact.

Zenyatta had walked around, idly starting casual, unimportant chitchat, ready for the actual mission to start, and then…

And then, someone had walked right in front of him, preventing him from moving forwards.

“I had expected to find some… opposition,” Zenyatta murmured, looking up. “But to find Akande Ogundimu here in person…”

Tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in a pristine, white suit, Akande looked down and smirked.

He towered over him, even with Zenyatta being as tall as he was, but as surrounded by people as they were, Zenyatta did not feel cowed –nor would he have been even in the middle of a battlefield.

“I do tend to make a certain… impression on foes and allies alike,” Akande answered, tone polite yet amused. “I have done my research as well… Tekhartha Zenyatta.”

Zenyatta hummed, appearing at ease, his attention solely on Akande. “I am sure you did. After all, leaving oneself blind to one’s opponents is no winning strategy.”

Akande’s smirk widened a little as he leaned down, voice falling into a whisper. “You say that as if you had a chance against me, here or… on the battlefield.” They were close, and Akande’s frame seemed even bigger, like this, _imposing_. “I could whisk you away and… dispose of you, or even use you against your teammates. Did your… commander truly think it wise to send you here unsupervised?”

“The first misstep is to underestimate an enemy you have yet to meet,” Zenyatta said, tone bleeding amusement, looking up into Akande’s face, “the second is to do so for an opponent in front of you.”

“Do you think yourself able to face me?” amused disbelief bled into Akande’s tone. “Bluffing will give you nothing, monk.”

“Hmmmm… bluffing, you say?" Zenyatta spared a glance at the people around them. None were looking, busy talking and enjoying the night. He curled one hand against his core, and focused. It was a tricky thing, to harness Discord without unleashing it onto the unsuspecting crowd surrounding them, trickier still to shape it into a form that would not attract attention –luckily, Zenyatta had years of practice.

He stepped forwards, made a show of tripping, stumbling until he fell into Akande’s chest, and placed his hand against him –a casual, unassuming action. Yet the moment his hand came in contact with Akande’s chest, he released the Discord, feeling it spread like poison from his servos and into Akande.

“Oh, I am so sorry, I tend to be clumsy, you see,” he said, loud enough to carry to whoever was closer to them, and watched Akande stiffen, a soft sound ripped from his lips as he gritted his teeth, the mounting Discord inside him like a tide he could not stop.

Zenyatta rarely had to use his abilities raw, but as his mala were safe back at the base, he would have to let Akande find out just how… ruthless Discord could be.

It spread through him slowly but surely, heavy and thick and dark, and Zenyatta did not need to open himself up to read Akande’s aura to know what was happening inside his mind, assaulted by dissent, doubts, fears, and what started as an itch, slowly building into pain –and if left unchecked, if Zenyatta allowed it out of his control, it could become something more. Something… permanent.

“Assuming I was picked for my meek, benevolent attitude was also a mistake,” Zenyatta shifted even closer, voice low, vibrating –it wrapped around Akande’s mind like velvet steel. “For one never enters the lion’s den with no weapon, and I do not fear facing monsters nor men.”

Akande tried to keep himself upright, but something pressed into his mind with the force of a typhoon, unstoppable, dark, tugging to the forefront a sense of foreboding that tasted like defeat on his tongue –like fear, like doubt, sheer in intensity and bubbling deep like a festering wound, clouding his mind, making it _hard_ to breathe. He hissed, barely able to keep his composure, and stared down at the omnic in front of him, mild-mannered and so fragile looking, who seemed to hang behind in battle to let others deal the harm, finding behind that exterior the steel of a warrior, and one who had many hidden aces up his sleeve.

Akande was not a man who often made mistakes, but he could surely learn from one.

“It seems I have… misjudged you,” the words were difficult, but as he said them he felt the pressure lessen considerably –not disappearing but fading into a background ache, debilitating but not crippling. “How?”

“Would it be any less of a weapon, were I to instruct you on the methods of its creation?” amusement veiled Zenyatta’s tone as he played with him. “Sometimes existence is mysterious, and requires no explanation.”

They remained in silence for a moment, staring one another down.

Zenyatta considered his options –with Akande surprised enough, he could just as well leave, but he would probably have Akande follow him around, if not to fight at least to impede his mission, and he knew it would not do to have him aware of exactly what was Overwatch’s target.

On the other side, that meant he was officially unable to continue.

He took a step to the side, optical receptors focused on his surroundings, hoping to catch sight of one of his teammates to notify them of this–

Akande’s hand darted forward, fingers wrapping themselves around Zenyatta’s lithe wrist in a steely grip. “Would you like to dance, master Zenyatta?” he asked louder this time so his voice would travel farther.

Continuing this illusion of courtesy.

“What delightful offer,” Zenyatta made no attempt to extract himself from Akande’s hold, and his tone sounded now almost mischievous. “Do lead the way, mister Ogundimu.”

The centre of the hall was large enough to allow many couples to dance comfortably, and many were doing so, but it offered also a secluded space to talk while being surrounded by music, making it harder to overhear others, offering some privacy while ensuring neither participants would attempt anything in front of so many witnesses.

Akande led Zenyatta to the middle of the dancing floor, his grip shifting from his wrist to hold his hand instead, his other hand sliding to Zenyatta’s hip, steady yet unyielding, and Zenyatta placed his own hand on Akande’s chest, quite unable to reach his shoulder.

“You are… surprising, monk,” Akande said, his eyes sharp and intrigued as he stared into Zenyatta’s optical receptors. “Overwatch acquired a rather… unexpected ally.”

Zenyatta smiled at him through his forehead array, following the lead as Akande began to move in rhythm with the music. He allowed his Discord to fade, and watched as Akande’s face smoothed in relief, the lack of pain allowing him some respite.

Somehow, he’d managed to look striking even through pain.

“I am but a simple monk, wishing to aid those who seek to protect.”

“Truly?” Akande’s grip tightened, not to the point of denting metal, just enough to be felt, testing. “A simple monk who has hidden his abilities enough that not even our spies could see them.”

“Well, showing one’s hand before the time only results in a loss,” Zenyatta’s fingers sparkled, danced with flickers of purple, and Akande’s grip relaxed, accepting the point.

“Consider your point made.”

“Then we see eye to eye.” Zenyatta’s tone vibrated with amusement as he added, “though I am afraid this puts me at disadvantage –now you know part of my abilities, and you will not let yourself be fooled anymore. How inconvenient.”

Akande, though surprised, found himself snorting. “I am sure you haven’t revealed much to me that you wouldn’t have during combat, am I not right?” his eyes sparkled with interest. “There must be more.”

“Now, that would be telling. I’d rather wait until a more… favourable situation to let you become acquainted with my skills.”

“The most favourable situation would be having you join us, then I would gladly inspect anything you can do… yet I will not disrespect you by attempting to sway you to our side,” Akande spun them around, the parody of gentleness, “but I have to say, this power of yours… it is not benevolent. Is that why you have never used it before?”

“I do prefer to wait and asses the situation when I am involved in conflict, but I do not shy from a more… aggressive approach if a lesson is needed.”

Akande snorted as they continued their dance. In his arms, Zenyatta moved swiftly, light on his feet as much as he was with his remarks. “I cannot say we’ve witnessed that.”

Tilting his head upwards, Zenyatta’s forehead array flashed in a smile. “Yet,” he assured him. “Though it is true that my inclination brings me to something less… devastating, unless provoked.”

It was as much of a hint as it was a chiding, and Akande almost laughed at the presumptuous words –except he’d just been shown that Zenyatta was no laughing matter, nor was he to be underestimated. His edge was a fine blade.

“I did provoke you,” he finally admitted. “I wonder how far that kind of power can go. I wonder…” and it was in his nature –Akande liked to believe himself capable, but even he had no chance to figure out what Zenyatta’s power was, or where he’d gotten it from, how it worked, why he’d developed it. It only made the situation more intriguing.

“Wonder as much as you might, it is not my intention to reveal my cards in a way that will let you understand them.” Zenyatta hummed, sounding so sure of himself Akande had to believe him. “It amuses me how you perceive me to be a mystery now that I have not behaved the way you assumed I would, while you, yourself, are a person shrouded in just as much mystery.”

“I do like to make my opponents’ job harder,” Akande admitted, grin growing on his lips. “Yet forgive me if I say my past has nothing compared to your present. Your abilities… ah, I wonder if all we’ve thought about you was wrong.”

Zenyatta allowed a trickle of harmony to seep through him to touch Akande, the lightest brush, teasing him with its warmth, before cutting it off, and he felt Akande stiffen again, offset once more.

“Perhaps,” he murmured. “Depends what your thoughts were.”

It took Akande more than a second to recover, skin buzzing at that barest contact with what felt like a gentle caress of an invisible warmth.

“We had assumed your healing abilities used the same technology as miss Angela Ziegler had in the past -nanomachines activated to hasten a body's natural healing rate, mixed with nanites' own properties,” Akande's eyes flashed. “It seems we truly have misjudged it all… greatly.”

“How amusing, for you to admit freely of your own mistakes. One would think you’d spin a wondrous tale to gain the upper hand once more.”

“Maybe I seek to intrigue you, as much as you have intrigued me. Maybe being humble will do me favours, while pride will only be my downfall.”

This did give Zenyatta a pause, and Akande used this to spin them around once more, inching closer to Zenyatta, thumb running across the back of his hand.

“Your pride is what drives you,” he finally answered, but his tone was slower, as if he was lost in thought. “Surely you would never abandon it when it is what makes you so sure of yourself and your goals?”

It did make Akande laugh, and Zenyatta, almost startled, found himself looking up. “Indeed, monk –I would not be here, if not for my pride, but… there are moments where I can even tone it down, if you can believe it.”

Surprised at the teasing tone, Zenyatta shook his head, honestly amused.

Another dancing couple swirled past them, and Zenyatta waited until they were gone, observing the smile on the woman’s face as her companion twirled her around. Akande followed his gaze then followed a similar path, leading Zenyatta into a circle, swirling him around with skill and then, using a lull in the song, dipped him.

Startled, Zenyatta arched his back, going slack for a moment in surprise before Akande’s strong arms brought him back once again, and though Akande could not read his expression, Zenyatta glared at him, core spinning a little faster at the unexpected action.

“Surprising your opponent can lead to a victory,” Akande murmured, looking infinitely smug as he nodded at him, the music halted for a moment as the song ended. “You do make for a pleasant partner in this dance, as light on your feet as you are.”

He did not let go of his hand, and Zenyatta resigned himself to a second song, though he found he did not mind. Again, as long as he kept Akande busy… and a little part of him was having more fun like this, bantering and dancing, than his wandering around from before, seeking points of contact to pass the time.

“You are… an apt lead,” he answered back, tilting his head down to their joined hands. “Perhaps a little bit forceful. Leading does not have to mean _controlling_.”

Akande’s eyes narrowed a little, but his hold on Zenyatta’s hand relaxed, allowing him to break free.

Surprised, Zenyatta looked down at Akande’s hand, still stretched out towards him as if in askance, then at his own one. It almost felt cold, out of Akande’s grip.

He could leave now, and after all, they were at a party. Somewhere in the crowd, Zenyatta’s teammates were stationed, waiting for the right time. Whoever found the target first would approach, and it did not have to be Zenyatta. After all, he was there simply as a backup, and if he could manage it, sway some people to Overwatch’s cause.

With a considering tilt of his head, Zenyatta waited, glancing from the hand to Akande, then–

He stepped forwards, accepting his hand again.

“One more dance, then, monk?”

“I do not see why not.”

“Do you not fear I will pry a little too much, then? Seek to rip those secrets you hold dear about your abilities, or yourself?”

“If you could, they would not be secrets worth keeping.” The steel in Zenyatta’s voice clashed with the way he allowed Akande to tug him closer again, their bodies bumping into one another for a moment before the music started again, the song a little faster, and they moved together to the rhythm. “Maybe my aim is to seek to unravel yours.”

Akande laughed then, open and pleased, shoulders shaking, and when he swirled Zenyatta around, body poised to dip him once again, Zenyatta allowed him to, distracted by the honest swirl of amusement he could read in Akande’s aura.

He waited until he was back on his feet to speak again. “So, then… what is it that Talon seeks _here_ , tonight?”

“As intrigued as I am by you, I do not feel my… associates would appreciate if I were to reveal all our plans to the enemy, no matter how appealing they are. I am sure you understand.”

That caused Zenyatta to laugh, a short, gentle bout that seemed to startle both himself and Akande.

“It was worth a try.”

“Yet here we are –at an impasse. It would be… dangerous, to have you out of my sight now, who knows what kind of nefariously good things you would do unsupervised, Overwatch agent.” The teasing was back in his voice and it was as surprising to Zenyatta as much as the grin on his lips was.

“You say, right after you allowed me the choice to leave. Was that just a plot to make me lower my defenses?” Zenyatta asked, sly, but it only made Akande’s smirk grow. “Meanwhile your own vile plans, which you cannot reveal, can be easily stalled… to dance with me. I see how that is.” Zenyatta could not explain why, but it was easy, to talk with Akande –easy to answer his teasing with equal wit, easy to forget who he was without truly forgetting it, easy to let him lead this dance, if not their conversation, yet… Zenyatta found himself inclined to let it continue.

Akande had a very pleasant, magnetic appeal. One could almost forget he was one of the leaders of an organization attempting to bring chaos to the world.

“I am sure my associates will understand, for I am doing so to keep you here,” Akande leaned down, invading Zenyatta's space, their faces suddenly close, and Zenyatta found that almost troubling when it sent a jolt down his back. “Definitely not because I wish to know more about you, monk of Overwatch.”

Zenyatta’s circuits felt jittery without reason, and he ignored the sensation, chalking it up to the tension of this –the encounter, the banter, Akande’s presence.

After all, it was not every day one ended up on the dancefloor with a dangerous enemy.

“You could ask,” he found himself saying, not as steadily as he wanted, tone nonetheless amused. “Does not mean you will have an answer.”

“Maybe the answers I seek can be found in other ways.”

Zenyatta had nothing to say to that, because as abruptly as the music changed, Akande tugged him sideways, dancing along the edge of the dancefloor until they were out of it, and rather than let Zenyatta go, he held onto his wrist, leading him away from the crowd.

Around them, nobody seemed to care, barely glancing their way, but Zenyatta allowed Akande to lead him away, unconcerned about their privacy, as what he lacked in physical strength could be balanced out with his other skills.

“Forgive me for leading you… astray,” Akande murmured, stepping through an empty corridor until he found an open door to an also empty room. “I have no intention to harm you.”

Zenyatta snorted. “Do you truly think me so easily fooled, mister Ogundimu?”

“You may call me Akande.” And the way he said so, turning to look at Zenyatta, eyes narrowed a little, smirk in place on his lips, made Zenyatta feel almost exposed. “That would sound much better, coming from you.”

“My,” Zenyatta’s optical receptors looked around the room, for a moment distracted as he searched for other ways out. “One would think you were seeking to court me, rather than subdue me.”

He was startled when Akande moved closer to him, invading his personal space until he had to look up, surprised, past Akande’s wide, strong chest and into his piercing gaze.

“Maybe both,” he murmured, pleased. “Definitely both, on a good day.” He leaned down, pushing Zenyatta’s wrist to the side, the grip still steely, unyielding, “is this a good day, master Zenyatta?”

Then Akande moved again, pushing him backwards, and Zenyatta stumbled a little, his back hitting a wall, one wrist pressed at the side of his head and Akande inches away from his faceplate, and–

It took Zenyatta only a moment to understand –Akande’s look, his actions, the innuendo, his teasing– before he felt Akande’s other hand slide down his body, moving down to curl around the edge of his thigh, where pistons and metal plates met the curve of his ass, and then–

Oh.

And he felt a little shiver run down his back, Akande’s hand on his thigh the only thing he could focus on, acutely aware of the way his thumb was pressed against the edge of a sensor, teasing in a way that made him want a more _direct_ touch, and…

Zenyatta realised with a jolt that he _wanted_ this.

He wanted Akande’s hand on his sensors, he wanted it to slide between his legs where he was aching –where he’d been aching for a while now, without even noticing, the build up so slow he’d caught him almost unaware, yet now… oh, now he felt himself online with interest, and if he’d needed air, Zenyatta would have been left breathless.

So taken he’d been with Akande’s banter that he’d fooled himself, but away from the crowd, with no other distraction, his mind registered their sudden closeness, the stretch of Akande’s muscles, his wide shoulders, his intense stare and full lips, and desire cursed through his circuits like poison.

“Depends,” he found himself murmuring, optical receptors focused on Akande’s lips, so close, if he only decided to tilt his head forwards– “would _you_ make it good, if I allowed you to?”

This close, Zenyatta saw Akande’s nostrils flare, eyes darkened with the promise of…

“The best,” Akande replied, and inched closer, towering on him, their bodies melting together.

“Promises,” Zenyatta felt a surge of anticipation tingling down his back like static as the hand curled around his thigh tugged him forwards into Akande’s body. “I trust actions better.”

“ _Oh_ , is that so?”

Akande was now so close his breath fogged the metal of Zenyatta’s faceplate, his lips brushing against it as he spoke, and Zenyatta’s synth made a small, wondering sound.

Heady, dizzy and tingling with arousal and anticipation, Zenyatta could find no reason to say no, not when he wanted to.

“The problem is…” Zenyatta forced himself to keep focused, and Akande retreated, if only an inch, “I would not wish this to be a lapse of judgement. I am not easily swayed.”

Recognition flashed through Akande’s eyes. “I assure you that whatever happens would be… off the records, so to speak.”

“Then I guess I would gladly see what kind of actions you can do, to make this a _good_ day,” he finally said, and then Akande was kissing him, demanding and bruising, lips pressed so hard against the seam of his mouth piece that Zenyatta reeled back and hit the wall.

Sparks of omnic energy flared from his face to dance on Akande’s lips as he kissed him back with the same kind of frantic need, and Akande hissed and moved down the curve of his mouth piece, tilting his head enough that he could reach below, to the sensors and wires underneath his chin, teeth tugging at them.

Zenyatta moaned quietly, hissing when the hand on his thigh caressed sensors through his pants that had him arch into the heavy, full frame pressed into him, his free hand shaking as he wrapped it around Akande’s tie to tug at it.

“Remember,” he gasped as Akande continued to kiss him, “you did promise to make this worthwhile.”

“And you would accept no less.”

“Indeed–”

Akande pushed him into the wall, pressing their bodies together and thrusting against him with slow, measured movements, grinding and pushing even as he continued to kiss him, the hand behind his thigh lifting it and nudging Zenyatta’s leg open.

Zenyatta’s hand moved to his shoulder, holding onto it since his other hand was still trapped in Akande’s grip, but soon he found himself focused more on the fingers caressing his sensors, on the lips working on him, than on how he was caught between a wall and Akande’s body.

He felt fingers slip past the edge of his pants, seeking, pushing and twisting, and he laughed, breathless without need for air, when Akande figured out how to open his modesty panel with barely any difficulty.

“I thought you would take your time,” he said, voice laced with amusement, but it melted into a startled moan when he felt Akande’s hand slip inside his pants fully, moving past his cock, still sheathed, to cup his valve with his palm flat against it, and his hips met the motion on their own, grinding into it. “I did not take you for an _overachiever_.”

The change of pace felt exhilarating –but he could understand Akande’s desire, if he’d been pushing for this since earlier, if his teasing had only been foreplay, in a way, and Zenyatta felt another spike of pleasure at the thought.

“We are still at a party, master Zenyatta,” Akande purred against the curve of his neck, sucking and licking, and Zenyatta’s omnic energy flared in answer to kiss him back. “Unless you’d enjoy being seen in such a vulgar display of carnal desire by anyone who happened to walk by.”

“How embarrassing, to have my kinks exposed in such a way. I would never… recover,” Zenyatta trembled as he felt Akande’s fingers rub down the curve of his valve, teasing its folds, and he parted his thighs further. “I do wonder though…” a gasp “would it not be worse for you and your _reputation_ , if someone found you fondling an omnic in such a way?”

In retaliation for the jab, Akande bit down on his neck, sending a jolt of pleasure down his back and he arched up into him, chirping.

Fingers massaged his folds, spreading them with slow, measured pulls, and pleasure spread from his valve, tingling and burning, and he tried to free his wrist from Akande’s grip, only to have him tug his arm up and into the wall above his head, leaving him feeling exposed.

“Allowing your enemy a win so easily when earlier you were content with showing me your… superiority…” Akande brushed his lips against Zenyatta’s neck, and he could feel the curve of something _hard_ and _big_ press against his outer thigh, proof of Akande’s own desire. “I thought you meant to give me a _fight_.”

“You do not win through brute force alone, Akande,” Zenyatta’s synth cracked as his words were broken by a soft, startled moan when Akande’s fingers traced up his valve and found the little nub barely covered by its folds, right at the top. A thumb started to trace it slowly, teasingly, while his palm continued to grind into his valve, feeling the first traces of wetness as Zenyatta’s processes came online. “Do you _want_ me to struggle? To let you feel… superior, when you hold me against this wall and take me…?”

Zenyatta had meant to challenge Akande, tease him with words as he was being teased back, instead the words sent a flare of desire through him, the thought of Akande being rough and demanding making him _ache_.

He watched, optical receptors slightly unfocused, as Akande’s eyes widened a little, the desire he felt so thick Zenyatta could read it without feeling it in his aura.

“Would it make you feel better, if you did?” Akande asked, almost breathless. “Excuse how you seem to want this just as much as I do?”

Zenyatta gasped when a finger insistently pressed into his nub, caressing it, nudging it, and he kicked his legs a little, parting his thighs a bit more. “I do not need to hide my desire like it is shameful,” he returned in a hiss. “If I truly did not want this, you would _know_.”

He watched as Akande’s lips stretched into a smug, pleased grin. They both knew Zenyatta’s words were true.

“Then I wonder… how prettily would you sing, bouncing on my cock, monk? Stretched and spread on it, taking every inch of me as I fuck into you…”

“Promises,” Zenyatta said, again, laughter bubbling up his synth, and again Akande kissed him. “Were you not the one saying… that it would be a bad idea, to be caught?”

Zenyatta expected Akande’s hand to finally push into him, make his promises true if not with his cock at least with his fingers –he was already so wet, embarrassingly so, driven to this point of arousal through words and little else– but Akande surprised him when he removed his hand instead, leaving him feeling empty and aching and burning.

“I guess we have to play fair, today.” Akande pressed closer, slotting his growing erection right against Zenyatta’s valve.

There were only two layers of clothes separating them, sturdy but thin, expensive fabric that felt almost heavenly as Akande started to grind into him again, and Zenyatta made a soft, aborted sound.

“This could be explained,” Akande teased him, “unless it was your team who found us. What would you tell them, then, master Zenyatta? That you chirp so beautifully for me, spread and trapped against a wall?”

Zenyatta gasped again, hips moving to join Akande’s in his grinding, but when Akande stopped, still pressed flush into him yet unmoving, his hand reached out to tug at his tie again, demand him to start moving only to have Akande’s other hand intercept it, tugging it above his head to join his other arm.

In a second, Zenyatta’s wrists were both held together in a steely grip.

“Truly trapped,” Akande murmured, hot against his neck. “At my mercy, aren’t you?” and he chuckled, amused and rough, as he started to grind into him again.

“How… convenient–” Zenyatta arched up into him, pleasure and arousal making his circuits tingly, “that we truly are alone, and you do not need to play it up for others to see…”

“Maybe I only wish to play for my own sake. After all, the view is only mine, is it not?”

“Presumptuous of you to think you’re entitled to this.”

“Presumptuous of you to believe I wouldn’t fight others for this… privilege.”

“A privilege, now? Should that make me feel honoured, Akande?”

Akande moved away from him, just enough that he could meet his gaze, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Zenyatta squirmed, feeling hot at the intense stare. “That would be me,” Akande finally said, tone velvet and smooth, “it is not every day someone who could have me on _my knees_ allows me to trap them like this,” he punctuated his words by tightening his grip on Zenyatta’s wrists, “to get such sweet sounds out of them,” he pushed his hips harder into Zenyatta, the curve of his cock grinding into his valve, making Zenyatta chirp and push back into him, “do you not think I would take all I can, from them?”

His hand moved down his front, thumb trailing down the buttons of Zenyatta’s suit, flipping each of them until he’d exposed his chest, core humming under his palm.

“I would think it a waste, to have you against this wall,” Akande grunted into his auricular receptor, voice rough and raw, “when I could have you on a satin bed, naked and begging for my cock.”

Zenyatta made a small sound –both at the idea and at Akande’s previous words, dizzy with desire and head spinning at the praise.

“Yet, I can wait for another chance, master Zenyatta. For now, though…”

His hand tugged Zenyatta’s pants down and they slid down his hips, pooling around his knees, stretched by Zenyatta’s legs kept wide open by Akande still between them.

Zenyatta dared to glance down at himself, and felt a wave of arousal hit him when he noticed that Akande’s groin was now stained with his translucent, teal slick as he pushed the curve of his clothed cock against his now exposed valve.

His pants were so tight Zenyatta could see the outline of it in its thick, heavy glory.

“ _Ah_ –”

The texture of Akande’s pants rubbed against his folds, burning pleasantly, but Zenyatta wanted what was underneath them, he wanted Akande’s cock to press into him without anything between them, just skin sliding against his silicon, plush folds, and the need for more contact was like delicious torture.

He looked up, optical receptors trying to focus on Akande’s face, and felt the weight of the man’s desire wash over him.

“A-All this work, yet you have done no conquering, Akande. Should I do it on my own?” yet despite his bold words, he did not try to get free, and shook a little as Akande continued to grind into him, the curve of his cock pushing into his valve without entering, barely rubbing against him, pressing into his nub, teasing him with something he was not getting.

He wanted to goad Akande into doing more, yet instead Akande kept his movements even and slow, enough that Zenyatta could feel everything, the burning pleasure building up inside him without becoming overwhelming, but strong and steady enough to lull him into a dizzy state.

Every time Akande rocked into him Zenyatta met the thrust with his own, humming when the pleasure sang in his circuits.

“Surely… hnnn… surely you do not plan for us to do this… all night?” the thought was delicious, but dangerous. Getting lost like this could cost him greatly, even if Zenyatta wanted it.

“Who could stop us? Unless you wanted me to give it to you hard and fast,” Akande mouthed at his neck then glanced at him, lips swollen. “I am in no rush. Are you?” then he laughed, smug and pleased. “Oh, right, I forgot… what would your teammates think, seeing you like this? Do they know you banter and play dangerous games with your enemies while they finish your mission?”

Zenyatta’s synth hiccupped and he chirped, again reminded about his friends present in the building. Having Jesse walk on him like this…

“They would think me in need to be saved,” he answered back, voice glitching into a moan. And they _would_ , especially if they were to see him like this, trapped against a wall, arching his back as Akande towered over him.

It was a little miracle Genji had not been appointed on a mission…

“Not if they heard you scream my name like you’re meant to.”

“It would take a lot more than… _this_ … for me to scream your name, Akande. Perhaps you should work a little… harder–”

“So impatient, for a monk, so greedy…”

“I take every experience… personally, Akande. Intimately.” He pushed into him, aware of how it would take them both nothing to rip Akande’s pants off of him, shred that last barrier between them.

“So you say… should I stop teasing?”

“ _Can_ you?”

Akande shoved him against the wall, thumb coming to rub into his exposed nub even as he continued his slow grinding motions. He was panting, breath hot even as he trailed down his neck, kissing and lapping at every sensor he found on his way down, and Zenyatta arched into him and dug his fingers into Akande’s hand still holding his wrists, angling his hips so he could feel the enticing length of Akande’s cock slide messily across his valve.

It felt so big and he hadn’t even _seen_ it, and Zenyatta groaned at the thought of finding exactly how big Akande could be, if he could fit him inside himself, and felt a trickle of slick drip from his folds and onto Akande, who hummed and continued to grind into him, thumb coming to caress his nub without a pattern, pace growing faster as Zenyatta arched into him, little chirps leaving his synth every time his nub was touched.

Finally –Akande was on him, around him, demanding, his entire body working against his own, and Zenyatta opened up to him and took all Akande was giving him.

Zenyatta’s optical receptors fell shut as he allowed pleasure to wash over him, excited by the solid weight on top of him, by Akande’s hold on him, steady and controlling, by the pants against his auricular receptor and by how hard Akande felt against him–

“Maybe I have been teasing you enough,” Akande smirked, lapping at Zenyatta’s collarbone, tongue curling around a small, hidden sensor near his pistons. “Will you come for me, master Zenyatta?”

“Who is eager now?” yet, Zenyatta knew it was coming –he was shaking, and the burning sensation was spreading with every thrust and touch, even as his valve ached to be filled, and he stuttered when Akande’s hand slipped between them, pushing his folds apart and angling his thrusts so that clothed cock could slot just right, not enough to push into him but– “ _ah_ …”

Akande moved again, tugging Zenyatta’s arms higher, and Zenyatta yelped when he was lifted up, dangling for a moment before Akande’s crotch was replaced by his knee, lifting him up until he could no longer stand on his foot, instead all his weight fell on Akande’s thigh as it pushed and pressed into him, and Zenyatta shuddered, grinding down into it with abandon.

Zenyatta wanted to speak, but words felt distant now, with the burning edge of his climax so close, processes shutting down to allow him to focus on the pleasure, all he could think about was moving and Akande.

“Come for me, monk,” Akande coaxed him, rough and demanding, and his fingers circled his nub, making Zenyatta cry out. “Let me have it, _now_.”

He pushed his knee higher, hard and mean, kissed at Zenyatta’s neck open mouthed, invading what was left of Zenyatta’s processors with pleasure and heat, sensors buzzing, two fingers circling his nub relentlessly, rubbing and stroking and–

With a strangled cry Zenyatta climaxed hard, a gush of slick spilling out of him and onto Akande’s knee, valve constricting on nothing while Zenyatta continued to come, shaking and trembling and stuttering.

“Yes, just like this,” Akande kissed him again and Zenyatta answered, desperate and needy, omnic energy burning across his lips until they were swollen and tingly. “Let yourself go, _Zenyatta_ –”

Zenyatta jolted again, a last peak that left him reeling before he slumped onto Akande’s thigh, shuddering, hearing fizzling out into white noise as he recalibrated.

He felt Akande let go of his wrists, and he slumped against his chest, processes restarting slowly, sluggishly, but even then his hands trailed down Akande’s chest, hips still grinding into his knee to ride on his last aftershocks of pleasure, feet coming down unsteadily to touch the floor.

As he recovered, little glitches making his servos twitch, Zenyatta looked back up into Akande’s face, shivering as he realised he’d been looking right at him, watching with lust-veiled eyes as he climaxed.

Body pleasantly warm and humming, he could still feel, pressed against his thigh, Akande’s cock still hard, and his attention shifted to it.

“Perhaps…” he purred, his hand moving unimpeded to cup it through his pants, “I could do something about _this,_ now.”

Akande hissed, but Zenyatta did not let him the time to think, his palm already flat against the bulge, rubbing it, feeling the dampness of his pants under the sensors of his hand.

“I think I would love to watch you come,” Zenyatta kept his touches light on purpose, goading Akande, tilting his head until his mouthpiece was pressed into the curve of his neck before unleashing a wave of omnic energy, kissing his skin like static, and he heard more than saw Akande jolt and grunt. “You have made a mess of me, so I feel it would be… fair if I offered you the same ending.”

Akande pushed him into the wall again, harder, shoving his clothed cock right into Zenyatta’s sensitive valve, pressing and grinding into it and Zenyatta arched his back again, moaning softly.

“I could come simply by looking at you,” Akande breathed into his auricular receptor, voice rumbling. “But I would not mind… a hand.”

With a forehead array grin Zenyatta shifted a little, both hands moving between his legs.

It took him nothing to unzip Akande’s pants, and then he felt Akande’s cock fall heavy into his hands, thick and burning hot in his grip, the tip wet with a trail of precum.

Akande hissed, one hand on Zenyatta’s shoulder, the other holding him by the hip, but Zenyatta made him wait a second longer, fingers tracing his own leaking valve, hand caressing Akande’s cock up and down, his own slick as lube making the process smoother.

With a pleased grunt Akande pushed into the tight grip of his hands, eyes falling shut. Zenyatta could see how he controlled himself, tightly compressed and slow even when taking his own pleasure, and felt a shiver as he wondered how he would look, if he were to lose himself, even if only for a moment.

Akande’s cock slid messily into Zenyatta’s hands, the tip brushing against the wet folds of his valve, and it made Zenyatta gasp, so sensitive even that light touch was still enough to make him light headed.

Zenyatta felt Akande pause, having noticed his reaction, but before he could pursue this direction again he tightened his hold on Akande’s cock, reminding both of them of where they were, fingers rubbing the underside, pushing at the skin and making Akande fuck into them again, moment lost as Akande chased his own finish.

“You still wish to own me, Akande?” Zenyatta could not help but ask, as hungry for an answer as Akande himself was. “Even here, against a wall?”

Eyes snapping open to stare at him, Akande’s lips curled up in a smirk, though his voice was not as steady now, little huffs passing his lips. “I would take you here and now, but I would so much prefer to have my time with you.”

“So not a dirty fuck at someone else’s party, then?” Zenyatta’s synth vibrated in a smooth laugh. “I must have been mistaken then, I thought that was what we are doing.”

Akande’s throat rumbled in a growl as he pushed harder against Zenyatta’s steady grip, fucking into his hands, Zenyatta’s slick and his own precum mixing to make the movements slide easier.

He was not loud, but his little grunts were doing something to Zenyatta’s insides, the ache left in his valve pleading to be filled with what he was holding in his hands.

“I do not think this as a dirty fuck,” he said, words rhythmic with his thrusts, and Zenyatta exhaled, dizzy. “Nor is it conquer. Unless you imply you’ve caught my interest –then I will have to admit to this truth.”

Zenyatta jolted a little when Akande fucked into his hands harder, and his grip slipped a little with the harsh thrusts. Akande’s cock slid messily against his valve, slipping down its front, making him gasp and arch into him.

Akande’s hands came to steer his thighs close, the grip unescapable, but instead of fucking right into him –and oh, did Zenyatta wish he’d done so– Akande fucked into his thighs, just inches under his valve, the vibration sending delicious shivers through his servos and processors.

“Ah–” Zenyatta held onto his shoulders, surprised by the direction but not displeased, pleasure bubbling back into him, heightened by his previous orgasm.

“There’s better ways to end tonight, Zenyatta,” Akande said, smug and pleased, but there was a bead of sweat rolling down his neck as he continued to fuck into the tight press of his thighs. “I would not mind an _encore_.”

Unable to part his legs, held against the wall without a chance to even push back, Zenyatta gasped and moaned, fingers curling into the collar of Akande’s shirt, tugging him closer until they were kissing again, lips against metal, messy and wet, Akande’s tongue tingling with Zenyatta’s omnic energy.

He was close –Zenyatta could feel it with every thrust as they lost their even rhythm, pushing deeper for longer, lingering in the tight heat of Zenyatta’s thighs, his cock pushing through and rubbing into Zenyatta’s valve, and he knew that primed as he was, it would not take him much to come again, not with Akande so close as well, demanding and pushy.

“You can take that,” he found himself murmuring, arms shaking.

It was building quickly, and it felt like he could never have enough, and when Akande stiffened and pushed into him and stilled, teeth gritted, when he felt him come, spurting into the crook of his legs, staining them with his come, Zenyatta whined and burned, on the edge, tilting his head upwards, shaking, and–

Akande bit down on his neck, overloading his sensors with the sudden input, and Zenyatta climaxed again, a long drawn-out moan leaving his synth, optical receptors zoomed on Akande’s face, still caught in his own orgasm.

Servos tired, Zenyatta’s head flopped forwards, hitting the crook of Akande’s neck, warm metal pressed into the pristine fabric of his shirt, and hummed as his body recalibrated, warm and sluggish after his second orgasm.

Against him, Akande stilled, cock still trapped between his thighs, not looking like he planned to move anytime soon, hands caressing his hips and thighs.

“Good, monk?”

Zenyatta snorted, optical receptors flickering back online as he tilted his head to look at him. “What an uncouth question to ask afterwards.”

“I did have you come twice, I think it was not bad… was it?” there was no hesitation or worry in Akande’s eyes, just mirth and smugness, and Zenyatta shook his head.

“Prideful till the very end,” he murmured, one hand trailing between them to the mess caught between the crook of their thighs. The base of Akande’s cock stretching his thighs was mesmerizing. “You did.”

“So… was it _satisfying_?”

Zenyatta’s fingers curled around Akande’s tie, tugging him until they were face to face. “It was… appropriately decent.”

A flash of dissatisfaction flickered through Akande’s face for a second, before he shook his head with a snort. “You wound me, Zenyatta.”

“Oh, did I? My bad…” Zenyatta still could not move, trapped by Akande’s big hands, but he shifted his waist and tilted forwards, thumb moving from the tie up until it was pressed into Akande’s throat, feeling his heart beat underneath. “I heard there were promises of making me scream someone’s name which did not truly happen.”

Akande’s mouth opened in surprise, a crossed look and eyebrows furrowed, looking so taken aback that Zenyatta laughed, quietly but heartily, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Do forgive –I had no idea you would truly be so offended by not receiving praise for your… more than adequate performance.” Zenyatta’s voice was still amused, but it had a trace of challenge in it that Akande did pick up, his expression once again sharp. “I guess if the right time happens, I would be… amenable for a repeat.”

“Oh,” Akande was now smiling, eyes burning as he looked into Zenyatta’s optical receptors. “I will look forwards to that, then.”

“So will I. Maybe we will not have to call a dry cleaner then.”

And again –it was worth it to see Akande’s confused face before he truly looked down at both of them, pants stained with their mixed release.

Zenyatta could not find it in himself to be disappointed.

 


End file.
